


Freaks of Gotham

by TheDelphian



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Humor, Interrogation, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 06:06:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2536961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDelphian/pseuds/TheDelphian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe they were right. Maybe they didn’t have any super-speed, or laser eyes, or magical green rings, but these fuckers had skill, and a lot of time to kill. Somebody forgot to mention that… And maybe that’s because they didn’t want to scare me off of the job, but still; it would have been nice to know. I should have learned that first night, but I was cocky. And stupid.</p><p>OR</p><p>Why it's best to squeal to Nightwing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freaks of Gotham

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little diddy I typed up a long time ago that I think I might continue. It's meant to follow a pattern of escalation. Greg gets off easy the first time, but each time he rejects an offer, it only gets worse.

My lungs felt like they were on fire. Like that time on thanksgiving when Sis accidently sprinkled cumin over the sweet potatoes instead of cinnamon. It was funny then, but I wasn’t laughing this time – No, sir, I wasn’t laughing one bit.

               I learned long ago from my time spent in Central City that running is pointless; super-speed or not, these freaks always catch you. I suppose I forgot that lesson that night. Maybe it was because of what I’d heard coming in. _These freaks in Gotham don’t got any powers_ , they’d say. _Naw, man, no metas here, just lunatics in spandex. That’s all they are._

               And maybe they were right. Maybe they didn’t have any super-speed, or laser eyes, or magical green rings, but these fuckers had skill, and a lot of time to kill. Somebody forgot to mention that… And maybe that’s because they didn’t want to scare me off of the job, but still; it would have been nice to know. I should have learned that first night, but I was cocky. And stupid. Cocky and stupid.

“I only want to chat, Mr. Hicks.”

               I couldn’t tell where his voice was coming from. It seemed like everywhere. There was no escaping, I get that now. But at the time all I could think was, _these freaks in Gotham don’t got any powers_ , and that was enough for me to think I could outrun him. I was wrong.

               All the sudden he was in front of me. I jumped back like a pussy, fell down like one too. Scrambled back only to remember this was a shipping bay, and the only thing behind me was a stack of wooden crates. I’d cornered myself like a cocky, stupid asshole.

“Gregory Hicks?” He said. “That is your name, right? Mind if I call you Greg?”

               The guy wasn’t even that big. Even from the ground I could tell I had a good three to four inches on him, and that just made the whole situation even more pathetic. He was a lithe little bastard. Covered head to toe in shiny, skin-tight latex. I mean, honestly, what was I so afraid of?

               That’s when I decided to lunge at him. And, let me tell you, _that_ did not go well. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure _exactly_ what happened, but all I know is that I was back on the ground in less than a second. I decided to stay there for a while.

“Look, Greg.” He said. “I just want to ask you a few questions. I ask, you answer, and we both go on our merry ways.”

“Go to hell.” Was my witty retort, and the fucker actually frowned at that. Like, he genuinely seemed insulted.

               That’s when he stepped into the light and I was able to see that he was a handsome son-of-a-bitch. Downright pretty, even. Mask or no mask, the kid looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ. His hair _alone_ -

“Now _that_ was rude.” He said, and he was stooping down to look me in the eye. “I’m trying to be nice to you, Greg. The least you can do is do the same for me and tell me what I want to know.”

               I’d seen this tactic before and I’d lived through it many times. This was his opening act. The small talk before he really laid into me. I’d taken my fair share of hits without squealing, so I wasn’t about to wimp out before it got to the good stuff. I said nothing. I spit in his face. He blinked and wiped it off with the back of his hand like it had never happened.

“All you have to do is give me one little name.” He said, and _damn_ , I really thought the whole _spit-in-their-face_ thing would speed things up a bit. “Just tell me who Cobblepot’s new supplier is. I won’t even ask you for his location; I’m more than capable of determining that on my own. What’d’y’say?”

               At that, I gained approximately half my left sack back.

“I say go screw yourself, pretty boy. This ain’t my first rodeo. You wanna try to beat it out of me? You go right ahead. But I ain’t talking – I’ll tell you that right now.”

               He smiled at that. And laughed. Not a sarcastic laugh, either. A real, damned, honest-to-God laugh.

“You’re new in town, right?” He asked. “Greg?”

               I glared. It occurred to me that there was only one question this bastard didn’t know the answer to. Any others he asked were simply for the sake of screwing with me. I gave in to him anyway. “What’s it to ‘ya?”

               That bastard was still smiling.

“I’m going to do you a favor, Greg.” He told me. “I’m going to explain to you how things work around here.”

“Is that right?” I said.

               He nodded. “That’s right.”

               He reached out a hand then. I stared at it for a few seconds before thinking, _what the hell,_ and taking hold. He pulled me up from my awkward half-sitting, half-laying down position and sat me up straight. He began dusting my coat off.

“Back in Central City, you have The Flash, right?” He said. “I love the guy, really, but he operates a bit differently than we do here.”

               I just kept staring at him. I was only paying a little attention to what he was saying; I still needed to calculate my odds of making it out of here alive.

“I’m sure he chases you down, which, I’m assuming for _him,_ doesn’t take that long. And maybe he bats you around a bit before turning you over to the authorities, but what’s done is done and it’s all over by then… By _then_ , you’re in a nice, comfy interrogation room where you’re questioned by the police.”

               I scoffed. He wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t’ have to be so condescending about it. The guy was making me sound soft.

“But Greg, we’re not The Flash and we’re certainly not the authorities. We don’t operate like that.” He said. “ _You_ have information _we_ want, so _we_ hunt _you_ down, and _we_ get the information from _you_. You following me so far?”

               I rolled my eyes. “I follow you.”

“No, Greg, I’m not so sure you do. See, the key word here is _we_. It’s not just _me_.”

“I _know_ about Batman.” I said, because, c’mon, who didn’t?

               He smiled. “It’s not just Batman, Greg, though he is _plenty_ for you to be worried about. But he’s not the only one.”

“You’re not scaring me with this nonsense.” I told him, and, at the time, I was telling the truth.

               He sighed. “Don’t you get it, Greg? The whole family is in town; home for the holidays, and I’m that one cousin you’ve always liked.”

I looked at him like he’d lost it, because I was pretty sure he had. He just kept going.

“You got lucky, Greg. I’m the good cop – the _nice_ one. But the others? They’re not nearly as cute and cuddly as I am.” He told me. Then he leaned in real close, lowering his voice in a way that was supposed to sound threatening. It did. “You’re _going_ to talk, Greg. And when you do, it’s best if it’s me who’s hearing what you’re saying. You catch my drift?”

               He hadn’t started hurting me yet. Not one scratch was on me. And as dumb as it sounds, I wasn’t about to talk when this bastard had yet to raise a hand at me.

“I ain’t telling you jack squat.” I said, he sighed real dramatic like. He dropped his shoulders and everything.

“Alright, fair enough.” He said, and he stood up from that uncomfortable crouching position he’d been in as though it were the most comfortable thing in the world. He ran two fingers along one of his arms to activate a latch or something, causing some gadget to eject like it was a goddamned cd player. He handed it to me. “Here’s my card. Give me a ring once you decide that I’m the one you’d rather be talking to.” 

               I looked down at the gizmo to give it a once over. It was made up of metal and plastic and shaped like the weird bird thingy he had on his chest. There was a switch on it - right in the center.

When I looked up, he was gone. And all I could think was, _the bastard actually let me go_.

I went back to Iceberg Lounge that night to have some drinks with a few of the guys I’d been working with. I’d only really become close with two of them – Ben and Louie. I doubted those were their real names, but they’d been in the game longer than I had so I wasn’t about to start asking questions. I told them about what happened at the shipping yard, about the pretty boy in latex. And maybe it sounded a little bit like bragging, and maybe I stretched the story a little, but, hey, I felt like I’d just survived a war.

A very lame, uneventful war.

“ _Nightwing?_ ” Asked Louie.

I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Is that who that was?”

“Pretty boy with the great hair?” Said Ben. “Yeah, that’s him alright.”

“Unbelievable.” Said Louie, shaking his head, “You done messed up, kid.”

I scoffed before throwing back two fingers of whiskey. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Ben laughed. It was a weird laugh. A pity laugh.

“It _means_ you should have talked.” He told me.

I looked at him funny. “And why the hell would I do that?”

Louie just kept shaking his head. “Don’t you get it? You’re on their radar. They’re _all_ lookin’ for ‘ya, but Nightwing found ‘ya first – that right there’s a gift. And you threw it away like it was hot garbage.”

Ben nodded in agreement. “Louie’s right. Once you’re on their radar, there’s no doubt you’re gonna squeal. Squealing to Nightwing? That’s your best-case-scenario. Do it quick and he won’t touch ‘ya. Won’t send you to jail or nothin’. You give him what he wants, he gives it to the rest of’em. Won’t rat you out neither, so long as you keep squealing every time he comes back. It’s the best deal out there and you just threw it away.”

And that’s all they had to say about it. After that, they treated me like a dead man.

I thought about what they’d told me for the rest of the night. I never said anything to them about that gizmo Nightwing had given me. I wanted them to think I’d let the opportunity fly by and that I hadn’t a single regret about it. I wanted them to think I was some kind of badass - that I wasn’t scared of what was coming. And at the time, I wasn’t. I had no idea what I was up against.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you guys think - if it's worth continuing !


End file.
